Bergentrückung
by Bookman Old Style
Summary: We all know who the king of monsters is. He is soft, and bright, and large. But do we really know everything about him? He had to have a life before being king, right? Join Asgore, Toriel, and Wing Dings Gaster as they grow up in the older days when Asgore was just a small prince.
1. Prologue: Little Prince

**_Heya guys. I'm really sorry about the update's consistency (hint, there isn't one). But I had this really neat idea. I mean, have you guys seen an origin story for Asgore? If you have, was it a little...bland? Like, was it taking place before the war? Well, welcome to my Asgore origin story. I think I've done very well so far, but I'd really like some feedback from you guys and gals. Okay? Be sure to leave any constructive criticism or just any comments! Oh, plus if you like it so far, be sure to favorite and follow, okay? All right! Let's do this~! -Bookman Old Style_**

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Prologue

He wasn't always destined to be the almighty king of monsters.

He had four other siblings who were bigger, stronger, and smarter than he was. They all made their father proud when he would have to try to please him by other, more intricate means.

All of his brothers' horns were curling when his were just barely beginning to break the surface of his skin. Their fangs were pointed and no longer dull and loose, unlike his which were. He wasn't the eldest, and he wasn't the youngest, yet all of his siblings were growing faster than he was.

He didn't understand that when he was old enough -and big enough- he would have to stop being an obedient, push-over prince. He didn't like how much his father pressurized him to train relentlessly -commonly making him break his limits- or how he tried to get him to eat the best foods the royal chefs could conjure that _might_ make him grow.

He didn't want to change himself. He liked the way he was, but the voices in the back of his mind -who strangely sounded like his father- would make comments of his everyday activities. His father would push for him to grow, and his brothers brought him standards of sons whom their father respected and praised.

"A Dreemurr must be tough. Cunning, insightful. He mustn't let his mind wander to improper places or fantasies he only _wishes_ upon. You are allowed dreams, but only the ones that you can make reality with your skill and knowledge. Without power, a Dreemurr is unworthy of such desires."

He didn't really like that lecture. He wanted to show his father that he was strong; that he was a worthy Dreemurr. He wanted to be fierce and brace and be the son that was expected of him. He wanted to prove himself.

But he didn't want to change who he was. He wanted to be kind and big-hearted and he wished for his father to accept who he truly was. He wanted to show his family that he was going to be a magnificent prince of the monsters.

The Dreemurr family consisted of the previous King and queen, the current rulers, and the five princes.

Grandfather Leonis and Grandmother Rilua, King Asritine and Queen Rosetta, Agnus the eldest, Aligmite, Argnow, Asgore, and Anigham the youngest.

Asgore was the unusual offspring. At adolescence he was short, scrawny and instead of battle-training, he'd rather be in the Royal garden. He admired all the kinds of flowers there were in the garden, but he loved the buttercups the most by far. The way their petals looked like molten gold in the sunlight, and how sweet they smelled. The palace garden didn't have very many, so on his free days he would trot through the fields they dotted.

The entire civilization of monsters lived in most of Europe and a little bit in Greenland and Iceland. In total there were two royal families, and eight noble. Most of the population was ruled by the Dreemurrs, so the two monarchies never went into combat. The monster's territory was intermingled most in Ireland alongside the humans that dominated the planet.

Sometimes Asgore's father would take the princes into the nearest town, allowing them five gold pieces to spend in the cluttered streets and shops. The larger sons diverted when it came to what they bought every time, but Asgore's purchases were usually consistent. There was a human in the town called the matchmaker, and Asgore would sometimes see his younger brother go inside and come out rather heated.

Anigham was only ten years of age.

Asgore however, would go to the village bakery, get a cup of Golden Flower tea for one piece, and then buy four packets of flower seeds. He would walk back to his father and brothers, the seed packets in his pockets and a small wooden cup in his paws. Rarely would King Asritine's snout frown, but most of the time he wouldn't pay Asgore's purchases any mind.

Agnus almost always got a silver dagger. He so far had forty-tens. He collected them and he said that the Whimsalot's were excellent when it came to forging them. Aligmite saved up his gold from every three or four trips, and then he would splurge his pieces on a new robe or cape that the skeleton family expertly crafted. Asgore knew a lot of the skeleton family. The seemstress' name was Gisha. Her husband's name was Lumos, and he was a cobbler for the humans who lived in the town. Asgore had a friend from the family who was about his age. His name was Wing Dings Gaster, but Asgore would normally call him Dings, or just Gaster.

Asgore also would hear from Aligmite about Gisha's second pregnancy. Gaster usually went quiet when it was mentioned, but sometimes he would whisper in this weird language that Asgore couldn't understand. Asgore didn't know a lot about pregnancy. He'd only witnessed one, and that was before Anigham was born. Basically he knew that baby monsters took a very long time to develop before they were born.

Argnow would buy small trinkets from Looxes and Froggits. The items didn't have significant value, yet Argnow enjoyed learning about the differences in design between lower-class monsters. And finally Anigham would normally use his gold with the matchmaker and the jewelry cart. He'd ask for a diamond encrusted crown, but the merchant always refused. Nowhere in the kingdom -or in the world- would a salesman sell such artisan craft for such little wealth. Anigham would try to argue, stating he was a prince, but princes weren't given discounts anywhere. Only the king and queen and any visiting princesses. Anigham would then huffily save whatever leftover pieces he'd have by the time the family was ready to return to the palace.

Asgore's mother never went into the town nearby. She had to stay at home to take care of Grandfather Leonis and Grandmother Rilua. They were both very old and it was nearing the time of their "fall." When they fall, soon afterwards they will disintegrate into a monster's purest form: dust. Their Souls would then slip from the ashes and break silently, ending their existence. But during the following days, the remaining Dreemurrs would spread Leonis' ash on his favorite possession, and do the same for Rilua. It is said that when this is done, their consciouses would live on for eternity in the object.

Asgore felt sad whenever he heard his father and mother discussing the ceremonies they'd have to plan when his grandparents fell. It scared him. He loved Grandmother Rilua and his Grandfather Leonis. They would rarely leave their beds, and they were usually asleep when Asgore brought them their dinner, but they talked with him and told him stories on his free days.

Asgore stood up from his room's desk and quietly pushed his chair back in. He wanted to go talk with them, hoping to know more about what was going to happen. She merely answered with that it was all natural, and there was no true need to stress over the fact of it.

"Asgore," Rilua creaked after he explained to her his angst. The curtains in the large chamber were drawn and the only light came from the fireplace. She was wrapped in a large quilt with the Royal family's insignia printed in the fabric. "You worry too much. Have you ever thought of that if Leonis and I never made your father, that you wouldn't exist?"

Asgore shook his head, his long ears flopping. "No, Grandmother."

"When a young one is created, the father and the mother combine one piece of their Souls each to build the new Soul." She took a rattly breath, closing her orange eyes. "Therefore ending their immortality. Though the parents give up their ageless state, they will continue to grow especially slow. This is so the child made will have both parents beside them up until adulthood. Leonis and I have lived long, wonderful lives, and we are ready to go when are bodies are..."

"But, wait, Grandmother. That's only for one baby, right?" Asgore asked, wringing his paws. "What about father and mother?" Rilua's ears twitched, the firelight casting shadows across her face.

"Your parents were taking a great risk when they made five of you princes," she answered gently. "They each took five parts of their Souls to build every one of you. Their lifespan, however has not been depleted too much."

"Then why was there a risk?"

"Ah, little prince," mused Rilua with a croaky laugh. "A Soul can only be separated up to six times. Six parts for each individual. Your mother and your father cannot have another child - unless Asritine wishes to fall and Rosetta does after she expels the newborn. I'm surprised however, that _you_ , Asgore, are considered the runt of your litter and not your younger brother, Anigham."

Asgore huffed. "What's that supposed to mean? I'm not that bad! I can be strong, and hardworking!"

"Yet Anigham defeats you in every battle match."

"Well, sure but-"

"He is taller, and his shoulders are broad. His muscles are taut and strong where yours are limp and thin."

Asgore stared at Rilua in horror. Why was she insulting him? Did the entire family really think that he was weak and useless?

He felt tears corner his eyes and he sniffed loudly. Rilua's head turned towards him.

"You weep," she observed.

"Yes! You're being a bully!" shouted Asgore, his paws balled into fists at his sides. "I wanna be strong and powerful, but I like who I am! I don't wanna change myself, not if that's all you guys want! I wanna stay the way I am, but I just want you guys to accept me!"He wiped at his eyes and nose. He heard his grandmother chuckle wetly. His temper flared.

"Why are you laughing at me?!" he cried.

"Because I find that your Soul is hard-willed and gentle at once," she murmured. "Your inner magic flares as brightly as the sun, and your ichor flows in a torrent through your veins. You _are_ fierce Asgore. But that power only shows in ways that your brothers and yourself might not expect." Asgore tilted his head as she reopened her eyes.

"I don't understand..."

"You forget that I am nearly three centuries old," she said. "I have experienced what you feel, what you are going through. I was not a well-formed lass when I was birthed. I was frail, and I could not control my magic very well in my latter years. My brothers and sisters brought expectations that I had to meet to make my own sire smile. And I know one more monster who had to go through the same thing."

Asgore blinked, curiosity bubbling inside of him.

"Who?"

Grandmother Rilua smiled wide and bared her yellowed fangs. She was missing a few.

"Your father," she responded. Asgore gaped at her, his ears raised at their bases.

"My father?" he asked skeptically. "But I don't have any aunts or uncles on that side of my family. He didn't need to compete with anyone for Grandfather's attention!"

"That is true. But he nonetheless only wished for my dear Leonis to give him credit with each deed. You and I both know that there is nothing too sweet beneath his craggly old shell, yet Asritine was determined to prove himself to his father. Do you know how he did?" Rilua's eyes gleamed in the firelight as she looked to her grandson. He thought for a few moments.

 _I wonder. I bet he killed a beastly dragon, or climbed a mountain as high as the stars. Or maybe he even defeated Leonis in a battle-training match._

But none of those seemed plausible to him as he thought over them more and more.

Asgore finally shook his head, unable to come up with a proper answer. "I'm sorry, Grandmother Rilua, I don't know what he did."

She laughed softly and held out a withered paw. Asgore carefully took it. Her fur was matted and dry, and the pads on her fingers and palm were callused and rough. She grinned at him.

"Little prince," she whispered. "All he did, was be himself."


	2. Chapter 1: Studies

_**Hello~! I'm glad a couple of people liked this! Uh, I've got three reviews to answer, and I just want to quickly thank the four people who favorited, and the six people who followed! Now, onto replies! X3:**_

 _ **uniscold43: *takes compliment and then dies because it's too nice for me to handle* THANK YOU SO MUCH! Not only for the compliment, but for being the first to review this story! I hope you enjoy the rest! :D**_

 _ **ferferfer1: I know right! I was just listening to an Asgore remix and suddenly it hit me: there is literally little-to-none when it comes to stories written for Asgore. So, my mind -being excessfully stupid on multiple occasions- decided to think of an entire plot line about ten minutes for this big ol' goat dad. (P.S. my pages are stained from my coffee -u- I feel so professional)**_

 _ **Serial Dreemurr: My title's not too creative. I mean, literally it's the name of Asgore's opening theme, and in German it means King in the mountain. :3**_

 _ **All right-y roo~! Here we go! -Sty**_

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Chapter 1

Asgore yawned as a well-dressed Snowdrake strutted in front of him, spitting out lessons and rules that the prince _probably_ should have been noting. A lot of it didn't make a nick of sense due to the monster's extremely rattly voice that was buried in layers of multiple thick accents.

"Prince Asgore."

He lifted his head, blinking the grogginess away. His instructor was tapping a clawed foot, the nails clicking on the marble floor. His ice-blue eyes were narrowed behind the thin spectacles that rested on his beak.

"Y-yes Mr. Blizzard?" Asgore answered, scrambling to find a piece of parchment and a quill. His tools clattered to the floor and Mr. Blizzard sighed.

"Prince Asgore," he scuttled, closing the book he held in one of his wings. "You do understand that you must learn in this class to be even considered for kingsmanship."

"I'm not gonna get the throne anyway," he responded as he picked up his inkwells and quills and scrolls. He inspected the jars to make sure none of them were cracked. They weren't. "It's going to be Agnus because he's the first born. And he'll be married soon. So he'll be king for sure. Not me." Mr. Blizzard rattled.

"What makes you so sure?"

Asgore's paws fumbled and another bundle of scrolls clacked to the ground. He looked up at his teacher in shock.

"What do you mean?" he asked tensely "Of course he will be."

"All right," Mr. Blizzard chided slowly, as if he didn't quite believe in Asgore's answer. He turned away and flipped open his book once more. "Today we will be discussing responsibilities of a prince and what is expected of one..."

Asgore groaned and laid his head on the desk in front of him. He'd heard this particular lesson practically one hundred times. He had drawings of all the monsters who'd given him it in his room. They were all pretty scrappy. Asgore wasn't much of an artist. Asgore picked up one of his quills and flattened out a sheet of parchment. Mr. Blizzard continued to blather on in his ineligible accent, and Asgore glanced up. Mr. Blizzard had a pale-purple snowflake pattern that made up his face, a bright orange beak, and pastel blue feathers over his body. Though Asgore didn't have any colored ink, he could still roughly sketch out what the snowdrake looked like. He dipped his quill in the ink and then scratched the monster onto his paper. It looked pretty bad, but Asgore shrugged and progressed in his doodling and began to tune out Mr. Blizzard. After a couple of moments he looked up and to his left out the window. He could see the vast plains and the mushroom-like trees. Birds, whimsuns and a few avian monsters flew past the pane, and Asgore sighed drily in response.

"...there comes a time in a prince's life in which he will be three years from full grown..."

Asgore's thoughts swarmed with what a beautiful day it was outside and what it must've felt like to fly. At one point he even reminiscised about what Grandmother Rilua had said. About his father being just like him. Was he really just like him? Was he small, and was he scrawny, and did his horns take forever to grow in?

 _I wonder if because I'm like him now, would I grow up to be him when I'm older?_ he pondered.

Asgore's thoughts suddenly went to Royal regalia. The entirety of the royal family wore capes, crowns and turtle-necked robes. But Asgore was still too short to fit into the smallest robe that Gisha was capable of sewing. His personal crown was entirely silver with tiny flecks of orange jasper and sapphire embedded within. Since he was unable to wear the usual robe, Asgore wore a black vest with an off-white sweater with thin sleeves underneath. The vest had his family's insignia embroidered into the felt.

"...to choose one is very difficult for the king and queen, for only the best will do..."

He also wore black pants and he always had his sleeves rolled up to his elbows. Around his wrists were two gold bracelets. Asgore's eyes were aqua on the left and orange on the right. His mother said it was inherited from both Rilua and Leonis. Asgore yawned again. He could still barely hear Mr. Blizzard over his own sluggish thoughts.

 _Why is school so boring? Isn't school supposed to be "insightful and exciting?"_

"...royal daughters must be courted by either royal sons or a duke's son to keep her title as high as she wishes..."

 _So...bored..._

"...the same goes for princes: marry a princess or a lady, whereas commoners are prohibited in any circumstance..."

Asgore sat upright so fast that his stool threatened to tip backwards. He struggled to grab his desk's edge, and all he could hear at the moment was his Soul palpitating.

"M-marriage?!" he sputtered. "I'm gonna have to get _married_?!" The teacher stopped talking mid-sentence. He turned his cold eyes to Asgore and he calmly snapped his book closed.

"Yes," Mr. Blizzard answered. "It is a requirement as a royal or any noble offspring."

"But I don't want to marry no girl!" Asgore piped, readjusting himself so that he was no longer in danger of hitting the ground. His paws stayed glued to the rim of his table.

Mr. Blizzard sighed, completely shifting himself to face him. "Prince Asgore... Do you know what the population of you boss monsters is?" Asgore blinked, a sudden chill rolling down his back as he realized what this old fart was getting at.

"Not...not a lot..." he mumbled, looking down at his feet. Mr. Blizzard's wings fluffed out and in.

"Do you know how many families there are with your breed?"

"Ten..."

"Exactly," the snowdrake confirmed stoutly. "Only ten noble families with your kind. Three of which who are all ready related to you. Who are those families?" Asgore hunched his shoulders and he could feel his cheeks flush under his fur.

"The Whimsis, the Floras, and my own; the Dreemurrs..." he whispered.

"Correct once again," Mr. Blizzard said. "At least you're learning something in my class. Tell me, which of your relatives came from the Whimsi family and which came from the Flora?"

"Grandmother Rilua is from the Flora and my mother is from Whimsi..."

Mr. Blizzard smiled - or at least attempted to despite his beak. "And you you know which family will become one with the Dreemurrs by this year's Autumn?" Asgore paused. He was all ready overwhelmed by the sudden mention of matrimony, but having to answer this instructor's questions about his family was beginning to bug him.

"Why do I have to talk about this stuff?" he asked. "I really don't want to discuss this kind of information with you. Besides; you all ready know everything about my future - or at least I'm pretty sure you do. Can't we move on to magic or something else?"

"Asgore," Mr. Blizzard responded, patiently batting Asgore's misleads and complaints out of the way. "It is very important for you to know what is to come for you and your brothers. There is no need to feel embarrassed or shy." Asgore frowned. "May we continue? Please answer my question, my prince."

"My brother Agnus is marrying some lady named Nithamy. I don't remember what family she's from."

"She is from the Rune family."

"Oh."

"And the other families that we've not mentioned?" Mr. Blizzard prodded.

Asgore huffed. "I only know two more!" he complained. "No one really talks about the other boss monsters. How am I supposed to know who they are?" Mr. Blizzard readjusted his spectacles, and stepped over to his own desk. He laid the book down.

"Let me construct a diagram for you," he rattled, walking over to the black board on the right side of the front wall. He picked up a piece of chalk. "You will want to copy this."

Asgore rolled his eyes and brushed his golden-tinged bangs out of his eyes. He grabbed another page of parchment and he dipped his quill in one of the inkwells on his desk. "Yes sir..."

Mr. Blizzard began to draw on the board. He started up high writing "Whimsi" above a wide circle. Inside he wrote the names of the first boss monsters who had the name. Beneath it, he drew lines connecting the first circle to three beneath it. In those he wrote names of the children of those two monsters. After more circles and almost countless lines, the snowdrake had completely fufilled the Whimsi's bloodline. It ended where Asgore's mother was connected to the Dreemurr's chart. Mr. Blizzard drew a bloodline for each family, and it had gotten to the point where he had to wait for Asgore to finish copying before the teacher erased the board and continued there on. Asgore had to grab another piece of parchment. Asgore realized about half-way through that they were now drawing the families that weren't part of the Dreemurrs.

"You see young prince," the snowdrake scraped when he was finished, "four families have yet to be united with yours. Prince Agnus Dreemurr will unite the Rune heritage with the Dreemurrs, and in doing so create another sustaining Dreemurr bloodline-"

"Wait!" Asgore burst out, cutting off Mr. Blizzard. "If there's only four Dreemurr princes left to get married, and only four more families, then who are Agnus' kids going to marry?" Asgore watched as Mr. Blizzard's feathers ruffled in unease.

"Well... Prince Asgore, it is believed that they would marry one of their cousins..."

"Oh, that's disgusting!" cried Asgore with a shudder. "Why would that even be remotely acceptable?!"

"To keep bloodlines pure is the most reasonable explanation I can give," Mr. Blizzard stuttered. He tried to straighten out his pale blue feathers but to no avail. "But it is possible that you won't have to trouble yourself over this. Sometimes new bloodline start just by appearing one day. That's how it's always been."

Asgore stared at his teacher before sighing, trying to relax on his stool. His face and head were warm and he felt sick.

"Anyway," the snowdrake clicked hastily. "Back to the diagram. The four separate families apart from your own are the Stardahs, the Deltas, the Uncarnites and finally the Wishuns."

"The Whimsis and the Wishuns sound like they're very close to each other..." Asgore muttered as he poked at a corner of his parchment. He was barely skimming over the charts. Mr. Blizzard coughed.

"Well, they were once whole, but due to complications within the family, it was divided," he informed. Asgore rubbed at his face, not even going to bother to ask what the teacher intended for that to mean.

"So... What family am I gonna marry?" Asgore hesitantly asked. Mr. Blizzard shrugged, setting his chalk piece back on the metal rung underneath the blackboard.

"Unfortunately, I am unable to answer that due to my own unawares on the subject," he admitted. "You still have thirteen more years before you must worry about that, and even so, it will be your parents who decide whom you'll we'd. Only at age twenty-seven will you know."

"Oh... That's a long time." Mr. Blizzard laughed roughly.

"Young Prince," he chuckled. "It might seem like a great deal of time, but don't you believe that that can be considered a good thing? I mean, it will give you time to associate yourself with the remaining families' daughters, yes?"

"W-what?" sputtered Asgore.

"Your Highness," Mr. Blizzard called in the direction of the open door to the classroom. "You may enter now, lass."

Asgore sat stock still as a slim monster quietly entered the room. She had the purest of white fur, barely noticeable horns and crimson eyes. She wore long, pale purple robes and a golden, heart-shaped locket around her neck. She stared at Asgore, and Asgore stared back.

She was unbelievably cute.

"Asgore," Mr. Blizzard chided. "I'd like you to meet Her Highness, Toriel Delta. She is eleven years old. She is one of the two children of King Galtica and Queen Sina, and she is the sister to prince Fernik."

She waved happily to Asgore and he gulped. When she giggled at his reaction, he could feel his face grow hot.

"M-Mr. Blizzard," Asgore whispered to the snowdrake. "She's kind of younger than I am..."

"That does not mean that you two cannot be friends, does it?" Asgore blinked at the teacher. He didn't know what to think. He was shocked, and a little light-headed. But mostly confused. So very confused. He looked back to the young princess Toriel. He tilted his head slightly.

 _I don't know if we_ can _be friends..._


	3. Chapter 2: The Prince and the Princess

**_Howdy guys! :p I know updates are being a pain in the butt, but I've got school and chores and a very annoying step-dad, so unfortunately that leaves me mentally drained. I will however keep writing in my journal, and I'm still a little tentative on writing CIHYH and YaIEaW, but I can tell you for sure that Bergentrückung will keep going on. I have a lot of great ideas for this story. All right, I've got three reviews to answer, and then we'll get on with this :)_**

 ** _ferferfer1: Yeah. I was fourteen once (which in monster age is like, eight or nine) and that was my reaction to hearing about people marrying their cousins and stuff. (BTW IF THAT OFFENDS ANYONE I AM EXCRUTIATINGLY SORRY I HAVE NO INTENTION OF INSULTING HERITAGE AND STUFF)_**

 ** _W.D Gaster royal scientist: Hello yes I will continue story thank :3_**

 ** _ferferfer1: You'll have to see ;)_**

 ** _Ha, anyway! Let's go on to this ;3 -Sty_**

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Chapter 2

From that day on, Toriel was in Asgore's lessons. She sat a few seats away from him, and he only figured that she was shy of him. It didn't really matter in the end.

Asgore didn't know much about the Delta royal family. Obviously they were boss monsters, but their history was very complex from what little bits he'd pick up from Mr. Blizzard's clucking. The Dreemurrs and the Deltas were the only monarchies in the monster population, and each had their own followers. But the families never went to war for territory because the Deltas had not even half of the army that Asgore's family had.

There was _some_ tension between Asgore's father and King Galtican, but Asgore just sort of figured that it had something to do with age or a really old spat that they got in.

Asgore was kind of happy that there was another student in the room. That meant that he only had a fifty per cent chance to get chosen for response. Toriel also liked to raise her paw to get called on when she had an answer. Her interest and engagement with learning made it easier for Asgore to relax in class.

But every once in a while, Asgore would catch himself looking at Toriel as she took notes or when she gave Mr. Blizzard the correct answer. His whole conscience would fade away and he'd just stare. The moment her eyes met his however, he would snap back to reality and feel his face flush. He would whip away, scribbling on his parchment to seem inconspicuous.

Unfortunately, he didn't have the confidence that Toriel never saw him ogling. And when he _did_ grow sure, he suddenly felt upset because that meant that Toriel didn't necessarily care about him. How'd he get to that conclusion?

In his mind if you stared at someone, you cared about them. It was just a personal theory of his.

Asgore's lessons eventually shifted to Magic training. Toriel continued on with Mr. Blizzard (who seemed to have snagged himself a secure role as a teacher) to recap what Asgore had all ready learned the few months before. Asgore was given a different instructor.

This monster was only about thirty years of age, but for some reason Asgore saw him closer to fifty. He was a tortoise monster with no children and no wife, which was sort of unusual in the monster community. Normally a monster would have a wife three years prior to thirty, and maybe have kids throughout their thirties or forties. His teacher wore dark pants and a tan explorer's shirt. Asgore didn't even try to find out how the monster had put on the clothing due to his immense shell. He carried a large hammer -which he named Justice- and his eyes were wide and blobby like a froggit's. Asgore was only about as tall as the monster's wrist.

His name was Gerson. Asgore had heard this name thrown about when it was time for supper. His older brothers Aligmite and Agnus talked about him a lot as they dined on roasted goose and snail soup. They said that Gerson had been originally planning to be a warrior in King Asritine's army, but when their father went to observe the trainees, he had witnessed Gerson's relentless use of precise magic and his high prowess in using his war hammer. King Asritine hired him instead as a personal general.

And as a prince-magic-and-battle-instructor.

(Of course Asritine never confirmed nor denied the statement of his original motive when confronted. Asgore learned to let his father keep whatever secret he wished to hold. He didn't really think it mattered due to his limited knowledge on battle.)

Gerson had a rough, scratchy voice -which only added to Asgore's suspicion that he was actually old. He told Asgore more stories than the little prince could comprehend, and every day the two never got to training. Gerson had a lot of stories, his collection insurmountable to Asgore's. The two would go to the dirty patch of land that was given to soldiers to train, but if Asgore and Gerson were out there, no other monsters would be in sight. It disappointed Asgore, really. He'd always wanted to see the Royal Guard in all their black-armored glory.

From what Gerson had told him about the Royal Guard, Asgore thought that since he wasn't going to be king any time soon, maybe he could become the head of the warriors. His mind was clouded by such day dreams.

For weeks Gerson told Asgore stories, and at some point in the "lessons" the guards began to sit alongside Asgore and listen to the tortoise's unusually attention-drawing voice. Asgore was given a wide berth of space at first due to being a prince, which in response made him uncomfortable. He'd never met any of these monsters, and they respected him more than he did. One day, he asked a dragoness to sit beside him. Her blood red-on-black scales glistened in the bright sun as she turned her gold eyes onto him. She had given him a toothy grin and she gladly seated herself next to the prince. Asgore hadn't stopped smiling for even a moment during Gerson's four-hour tale that day.

Asgore's happiness began to grow larger and larger until all he felt was immense joy. It was now an entire barrack of soldiers listening to Gerson's epics, and Asgore had made friends with all of the guards. He never knew that a lesson that he thought was going to be excruciating could be so enjoyful. He was friends with knight knights, madjicks and final froggits, ghost monsters, mammal monsters, and even avian monsters.

But then one day Gerson and Asgore were once again alone on the training field. No Royal Guard awaited them, no smiles for Asgore to return. Instead, Gerson raised his hammer at Asgore and challenged him to battle.

* * *

Asgore lay on the grass outside, staring up at the clouds. His eyes trailed and traced the shapes of the poofs in the sky. He was under an old oak, the leaves silently sliding against each other in the impalpable wind. His first true lesson with Gerson was horrific. And now, the poor prince had thin bandages on his sides and small patches of gauze on his paws.

He was the prince of the eternal bloodline -his heritage flowing back all the way to when the first civilizations had begun. He was Prince Asgore Dreemurr, son of the mighty and benevolent King Asritine and the revered Queen Rosetta. He was one with the element of combustion, a trait that was given only to three boss monster families.

And he had burned his paws with his own magic. He'd been beaten by a turtle with goopy eyes. He'd lost. Badly.

Asgore felt his lids go heavy and he closed his eyes with a sigh. He really _was_ pathetic. Before his closed eyes he could see the shadows from the shifting leaves. He could barely feel his paws now as they grew numb beneath the wrappings.

A long while passed before Asgore heard soft steps to his left, and soon after, a shroud of darkness covered the sunlight. Asgore opened his eyes and tried to unblur them. He must've dozed off.

Above him was a small white face, smiling down. Her red eyes gave off an odd gleam as the distant sun's rays danced over the back of her head. Asgore shuddered but he didn't move. He blinked nervously.

"Howdy, Toriel," he greeted softly. The princess smiled wider.

"Greetings, Asgore," she responded. A brief second passed before her eyes widened and she knelt beside him. Asgore's face scorched when she took one of his paws into hers. "Oh my! What has happened to your paws?" She cringed when she peeked beneath the gauze.

"Oh..." Asgore sat up and faced her. "Um... I... I burned them."

"Doing what?"

"I was... uh..."

Asgore furrowed his brow, trying to think of a good lie. He didn't want Toriel to laugh at him because he didn't know how to keep his magic under control. Toriel looked at him harder, her eyes wide and scared.

"Asgore, what were you doing that caused your hands to burn?" she asked. Her voice was pitched and Asgore inwardly reeled back. Why was she so concerned about him?

"I was-um... baking," he said haphazardly. Toriel blinked, her shoulders slumping.

"...Baking," she echoed.

Asgore wanted to kick himself. Of course he wasn't _baking_! He'd never made anything in his entire life. What kind of lie was that?

"Y-yes..."

Toriel stared at him for a few more moments before a smile broke across her muzzle. Her eyes seemed to glow.

"Ah," she said. "I did not know you baked, Prince Asgore. May I draw the conclusion that you might have been removing a pie from the furnace without taking prior precaution?"

Asgore hesitated. Her speaking was so... _proper_.

"Right," he finally answered. "I didn't use...one of those shovel things to get it out."

"I understand," she said, nodding. "There is no need to be ashamed, my friend." She released his limb and showed him her hands. Twisted scar tissue and long-gone wounds crumpled the surface of the pads along her fingers and palms. Asgore blanched.

"I too, bake," she explained hurriedly, as if trying to suppress his anxiety. "When I only three years of age, my mother taught me how to replicate her most beloved recipe for pie. She and I dined on this particular pie for after supper every evening. One day I had decided to bake it completely on my own, and I had done brilliantly until it came time to remove it from the fire. I touched the smoldering metal pan and I had permanently damaged the nerves in my hands. I do not feel much, but I do not think it truly affects me. I can still cook, and my control on my magic has not been altered."

Asgore stared at her for a moment.

"Am I gonna get scarred, too?" he bleated.

"Well," Toriel mused, tilting her head. "I could always heal the burns. I do have such magical abilities."

"W-would you?"

"Certainly!"

Toriel took both of his hands into hers, their palms against one another.

The wind around the hilltop had ceased, and the twirling scent of buttercups along its base filled Asgore's nostrils. Birds sang and somewhere in the distance ducks attempted to as well. Their quacking echoed over the valley. Asgore's father's castle seemed to pierce the sky, the spires wide and freckled with windows. Flags flapped up high, pronouncing his family's insignia. It looked to be a circle with two spread wings that were leveled with itself. There were three triangles above and beneath the symbol, with the points of the middle two pointing at it. The other four either pointed up or down.

Asgore's attention went back to Toriel. Today she was wearing a pale-grey robe with her own family's crest upon her chest. It seemed to be a black river that broke away near one end and branched off so many times that Asgore realized that it looked more like a tree than a delta. A tiny tiara posed on Toriel's head. He guessed from its colors that it was made of mostly silver and little gems of quartz embedded within. Toriel smelled like butterscotch and cinnamon and chrysanthemums. Around her throat was the little glint of light; the golden, heart-shaped locket.

Toriel began to murmur words that Asgore couldn't understand. As the spell left her lips, his and her paws began to glow with green aura. A tingling sensation spread into his paws. A faint hum reverberated in his ears.

A few leaves drifted from the branches above the two monsters. A couple glided away, and the singular that came within the vicinity of Toriel danced around the princess. Asgore thought that maybe it had gotten trapped by the invisible force of her power.

The green magic began to die down and Toriel opened her eyes.

"Toriel!" Asgore yelped as she slumped forward. His paws hooked under her arms and her forehead was on his shoulder. A soft thump indicated her tiara hitting the grass. "Toriel?!"

He laid her as gently as he could on her back. Her eyes were cloudy and she was trembling slightly. Sweat left light, flat streaks across her fur.

"It..." She took a gasping breath before smiling slightly. "It is all right. I was not paying much notice to your wounds, my friend."

She took a few more deep inhales before she sat upright. Tiny slivers of green were stuck to her back and shoulders.

"A-are you okay?" Asgore asked quietly. Toriel nodded.

"Yes. I just did not realize the extent of your injuries," she murmured. "It was my own mistake, but you should be restored now." With that said, she stood up and placed her paws on her sides in a rather proud stance.

Asgore looked at his hands. They weren't numb and they tingled uncomfortably. He slowly peeled away the bandages from his left paw. The cloth that had been pressed against his blisters had a clear, gooey liquid coating it. But as he inspected his pad, his maw gaped open.

It was smooth and undamaged.

"Wow…" he breathed. He looked back up at Toriel. "Thank you."

"Of course," she replied.

Asgore and Toriel both turned their heads towards the Dreemurr palace when a distant shouting could be heard. He could barely make out what was being said.

"Is there peril?" Toriel asked, her crimson eyes flicking to Asgore. He shrugged.

"Don't know."

"Do you believe we should investigate?"

"Nah, it's probably just father scolding one of the trainees or something."

"Are you certain?"

"All most."

The shouting didn't cease. In fact, it sounded as if it was coming closer. Toriel crouched down beside Asgore, plucking her tiara from the ground.

"It is a messenger," she whispered to him before righting herself.

"Prince Asgore!" a voice shrieked. It was airy and broken, as if they were out of breath.

Asgore stood up beside the Delta princess, brushing blades of grass from the black fabric of his pants. "Yes?" he called back. If the messenger was this frantic, maybe there _was_ an emergency. "What do you need?"

The monster stopped. They weren't even close to the hill yet. It was hard to see what kind of creature they were. Asgore guessed that they could've been a ghost monster seeing as their body was convulsing and translucent.

"King Asritine!" the page squawked. A bird-ghost monster. "He has ordered for your presence at the palace's front gate!"

Asgore sighed and rubbed his face.

"Yes!" Asgore answered. "Please reply to him that I will be there shortly!" The page bobbed their head and turned around to go deliver the prince's response. Asgore glanced at Toriel, a smile creeping along his face.

"Hey," he said, "you wanna come with me?"

"Would such action be frowned upon by His Majesty?" she asked.

"Probably."

"Then I shall accompany you, my friend."

Asgore and Toriel bounded down the slope, each holding their crowns to prevent the wind from whisking the jewelry away. The two ran to where Asgore was requested and they stopped when they saw King Asritine.

King Asritine was easily nine-feet tall. His shoulders could seat four, ten year old human children. His fur was a greyish hue and countless black markings tore across the smooth surface in ravines. The black fur was course and scratchy. The king was a legend in the monster realm. He was the most powerful monster to have ever existed to this day. His eyes were golden, and a jagged black beard engulfed his throat and chin. A magnificent crown rested between his horns. The bone coiled like poised cobras, their tips only a hairsbreadth away from biting one another. His robes were golden and black and white with the trim embroidered with purple thread. His blood-red cape hugged his massive shoulders and a pure-gold clasp kept the ends tied on his collar bone.

Asgore stared blankly for a moment before he slunked up to the mighty beast and bowed his head.

"You requested me, father?"

"Yes," Asritine growled. His voice made the ground vibrate under Asgore's paw pads. Asgore took a moment before allowing himself to look back up at his father. As he did, he took notice to his four brothers a short distance behind King Asritine.

His oldest brother Agnus was nigh of the king's forehead. He himself had a black beard and twisted markings along his fur, which in itself was white like the queen's. Agnus had his very own crown –though not as impressive- that was studded with rubies and bloodstones. His horns were as long as Asgore's arm and the surface of them had gilded etchings that gleamed in the sunlight. In the group of brothers, he was easily identifiable as either the warrior, or the heir to the throne.

The second oldest prince was Aligmite. He matched Agnus in height, and Aligmite was definitely the vainest of the brothers. He usually ordered expensive and absurdly intricate patterns from Gisha, claiming that whatever other priorities that she had could halt until his robe or cape was completed. He wore pelts from animals and only the softest of furs would do. Asgore didn't like him very much. Aligmite took after their father, just like them all. But he didn't have the trademark of the black slashes of rough fur.

Next was Argnow, the middle son. He was around six feet tall, which made him look short beside Asritine, Agnus and Aligmite. Argnow was exceptionally wise for his age. He had graduated from prince school before he had even enrolled, and he had begun his own progression of science. Argnow wore spectacles and he didn't don his cape or crown often. He enjoyed figuring out equations and certain fundamentals of the physical plain. He would study the moldsmals for hours, hardly moving or saying anything as he watched their gelatnis forms spread and ooze. His eyes were a pale orange like dying embers, and Asgore sometimes worried about his brother's habits. Argnow didn't think that his own nourishment was necessary and sometimes he fainted from dehydration. Of course King Asritine never found this out. He would much rather have battle-worn sons than know-it-all students.

And the youngest prince of the family was Anigham. Anigham was about a foot taller than Asgore, despite him being two years younger. He was a spoiled little son who still had too much to learn. He argued with everyone in the family and Asgore once caught the monster swearing at his reflection in his chamber. The wily prince was loud and undisciplined, but he still had some respect in the palace because of his body build. Aligmite had only four black markings across his ash-colored fur and those were across his back. When he had been born, Asritine took this as a sign from above that Aligmite had lived a harsh and cruel life of torture in some distant past. Asgore thought it was an excuse to why his brother could be rambunctious and annoying whereas he had to be silent and revering.

"We are going to the village today?" Asgore asked softly after he had run through the list of his brothers in his mind. Asritine only nodded.

"Why is Princess Toriel Delta with you?" the king rumbled. "She should be with instructor Blizzard in the lecture wing of the palace."

"I visited Asgore after my lessons with Blizzard," Toriel piped. Asgore couldn't help but fear for her. She hardly reached the height of King Asritine's thigh. "I have decided to accompany him for he is my friend, and I wish to become his as well."

A suffocating silence followed. Asgore heard a loud ringing in his ears as Asritine raised an eyebrow at the princess.

"Very well then," Asritine said deeply. He turned away. "Come along, Your Highness."

Asgore gaped as Toriel followed the king of monsters and the giant princes. She grinned back at him, unwavered.

"Come, my friend!" she called. "You do not wish to be left behind, do you?"

Asgore shook his head and stumbled after her.

 _My father respects a younger princess than his own son_ , he thought as he caught up to her, wincing as his side stretched beneath the wrappings. _Like that makes any sense._

He sighed and almost subconsciously felt his paw grasp Toriel's.

Niether she nor he said anything as they walked hand in hand.

 _Whatever..._


	4. Chapter 3: Into Town

**ONE REVIEWWWWW:**

 **ferferfer1: Oh thank you! I try my best, and yes, Toriel will grow up to be a little potty mouth**

* * *

All the clouds in the sky had vanished by the time the royals made it to the tiny town. Froggits, woshuas, looxes, and countless more varieties of monsters bustled in the crowded market place. Humans shuffled through as well, but none of them sold anything. The humans were known to be the best buyers for the little stores.

The main street of the village was made of cobblestone and squat brown houses lined the edges. In front of the buildings were hundreds of stands. The stands ranged in color and products and the monsters whom owned them.

Asgore could list only a handful of the merchants as he and Toriel passed by. Despite his prior visits to the place, he wasn't very good at remembering the dwellers.

Monsters bowed, groveled, and offered to king Asritine as he thudded past. He would smile at them and gently refuse the charity, pick up the writhing underlings, and bow in return. Asgore took note that when his father smiled it looked as if he'd just witnessed a rather grimace-worthy deed that disgruntled him. Asgore whispered his thought to Toriel and she burst into a wild fit of giggles in response.

When the boss monsters reached the town square –an enormous, oval shaped center to the town- Asritine stopped by the fountain.

The marble structure was about three heads taller than the king, and it was in the swerving shape of an adder. Its tail and body made up the entire rim and basin of the fountain, and its body stretched another good four meters into the air before ending in a spiral near the middle. A spray of water exited the snake's fanged maw in a tumbling fall to the pool far beneath it. From Asgore's position, the sun flared from behind the rippling curtain and it turned the water into fire. Inside the fountain gold and silver and copper pieces glittered like writhing minnows caught in a fierce current.

He and Toriel both peeked over the edge, watching the little glints flicker in the shivering pool.

"All right the six of you," Asritine rumbled. He reached into a small pouch that hung from his left wrist. There was a light tinkling coming from his sleeve as he opened the bag. He pulled out a handful of golden coins. He began to hand Agnus, Aligmite, Argnow and Anigham five each. "Five for every one of you. As always, spend wisely for what you believe will bring glory to yourself and possibly the family." The larger princes all nodded and went on their way. King Asritine turned to Asgore and Toriel.

Asgore tilted his head when Asritine gave Toriel ten coins.

"Princess Toriel Delta will obtain your share," the king muttered to Asgore.

"What?!"

"You understood me. Both of you, go on your way. Asgore, I expect you to watch over Her Highness as she browses through the town." Asgore balled his hands into fists but he didn't say anything.

He nodded slowly.

"Good," his father said, tightening the pouch around his wrist. "I will wait in this area until sundown. If by chance you two do not arrive at or around such time, then your brothers and I shall be headed to the palace _without_ you. Should that happen, you will take Her Highness to her own castle and then come home alone." His eyes bore straight into Asgore's. A silent threat passed between the king and the prince. "Am I clear?"

"Yes…father…" Asgore whispered. Asritine gave a curt nod before marching away, parting the ocean of humans and monsters like that one religious figure that the humans refer to often in their chapels.

Asgore sighed and rubbed his face. Well, _this_ was just perfect. Now he had to be an obedient little guard dog to Toriel, and probably get dragged everywhere she would want to go. Like the girly shops or the jewelry cart or maybe even the dress—

"Let us go to the weaponry."

Asgore's head snapped towards Toriel. He didn't even realize that he'd let go of her hand. Her eyes were wide and he could see the tints of gold from the coins in her crimson irises.

"What?" he asked.

"The weaponry! Let us go!" she exclaimed. She clutched the pieces tightly in her left paw and snatched his own with her right.

She began to lead him along the streets, the two children swerving in a river-like way between monsters and people and lone carts. Asgore tripped over his own feet many times, and no matter how hard he tried, he couldn't get Toriel's grip to loosen around his wrist. It was as if he'd been caught in a plush bear-trap.

Another few minutes passed before they stood in front of a large forge. Stalactite knives and swords hung down from the ceiling and round boulders of anvils littered the floor. In the far beck corner a soft glow of orange indicated the furnace. A large, heavyset elephant monster was beating an axe blade into a flat disc when Toriel stepped in. The blacksmith paid her little-to-no attention.

"Excuse me, sir," she greeted him. "I am here to have a weapon created."

He only huffed in response. Asgore seemed to catch a bit of a laugh in the exhale.

"I would like a trident, my good sir," Toriel continued. "Preferably forged from gold and titanium. Indestructible, to say the least. Three pronged, of course. And perhaps a rose sculpted into the base of the prongs? That would be lovely. Are you capable of doing so?"

The elephant monster glanced at her and put down his tools.

He was tall, maybe two heads shorter than king Asritine. His skin was taut and a pale blue. He had two thick, twisted tusks coiled a few inches in front of his chin, their tips pointing outward. He wore ragged desert wrappings, and swirling tattoos painted his forearms. He didn't have stump-like appendages like actual elephants. He had fat fingers and dirty nails. Asgore suspected that he didn't wear gloves for his projects.

"Aren't ya a little young ta be askin' fo' weapons?" he growled in a voice thick with a southerner's accent. "Little lady, ya might want ta go back home now. Don't ya know it gets a little rough around these parts?" He flicked his wrist at her, but Toriel just smiled wider.

"I said, I would like a weapon to be crafted here. Is that not what you do?" she shot back calmly. Asgore stepped up to her, reaching out a paw.

"Toriel… I think we should go…" The princess didn't budge. In fact, she took another pace into the forge. The air shifted with heat.

"Ya heard him," the blacksmith sneered, baring his rotten gums and teeth. "Go along now."

The princess sighed and reached into her sleeve, pulling out a dark item. Asgore started forward before he realized that it wasn't a bludgeon. He'd actually thought _she_ was capable of having a weapon on her. She tossed the woven bag onto a wooden carving table, the top splitting open. Hundreds of little jewels and coins burst from the new tear, the treasure clinking softly as the pieces slid past each other. The forger stared at it in awe.

"I suppose that shall suffice in both payment and proof that you ought to craft this weapon?" Toriel asked.

The elephant monster nodded slowly, his rather small ears flapping.

"Y-yes." He swallowed hard, wiping at thick beads of sweat that speckled his forehead. Toriel nodded, satisfied.

"Excellent," she agreed. "When do you predict that this weapon shall be finished?" The blacksmith's mouth opened and closed like a breached fish. Asgore hid a snigger behind a hard coughing fit. He'd have to share that input with Toriel when she was done with "business." To say in the least, Asgore never expected such a small girl intimidate such a large monster.

"Um," he began, but then silenced. Asgore could see a bright red glow come from Toriel's eyes. He guessed it could have been the fire's reflection off of them, but even if it was, he was still glad to not be the one to be under that stare. "A few years… A-at the least."

Toriel didn't look too pleased, yet she didn't argue this time. She simply turned away with a small smile. "Very well. Thank you for your time, good sir."

She grinned at Asgore as she walked past him and the prince took one glance at the blacksmith before trotting up to Toriel so he didn't get left behind.

"Hey," he whispered when he evened his pace with hers. "How did you do that?" When she raised a brow at him he swallowed. "I-I mean, how did you make him obey? You're just so…small."

Toriel let out a howl of laughter, drawing all the attentions of the monsters and humans in the vicinity to the royals. She grabbed his sleeve to keep herself up as she snorted.

"Asgore, my dear companion, I was only doing what I know!" she squeaked finally. "I was not attempting besiegement nor any silent threats! I was just being a princess and taking control of the situation like any sensible noble." She continued to giggle thoroughly as they kept walking through the streets.

A long while passed before Asgore suddenly perked up. He knew this part of the town! This was close to Gisha and Garamond's shop!

Asgore clasped Toriel's paw and he grinned wide at her. He wanted to show Wing Dings Gaster to her. He doubted that she'd ever seen a skeleton before.

"Come on!" he said. "I wanna take you somewhere!" Toriel's eyes widened and she smiled nervously as Asgore tugged her through the surging crowds. Asgore apologized frantically as he accidentally smushed into other monsters or humans. Toriel tried to complain that he was pulling her a little too quickly, but since he hadn't done so when _she_ had been yanking on his arm, and he just ignored her. She'd be fine. If she wanted to, he was sure she could break out of his hold.

And probably break his fingers in the process.

Soon enough, a semi-large building loomed in the distance. Asgore grew even more excited. He couldn't wait to tell Gaster what he'd been through in the past month since he last saw him. The building had a large wooden door in front and three windows above. The stone was made of a pale brown material, and from here, Asgore could see a bright white skull gleaming in the sunlight.

"Dings!" Asgore shouted, pulling Toriel harder. " _Wing Dings_!"

Asgore stopped suddenly when he realized that the skeleton wasn't Gaster, but instead Garamond. The gruff, old monster turned his gaze to the two panting royals. His hands had rough edges and the finger bones seemed to have ridges. He rubbed his palms together and then forced a smile.

"Ah, why isn't it the young prince," the cobbler greeted them. "Uh… What might I be able to do for you, young ones?"

Asgore could tell that Garamond was having a hard time keeping up with his façade, so he quickly told him. "Toriel and I want to see Gaster. Is he around?"

He nodded curtly and gestured towards the house. "He should be in the study. Try not to frighten him too much, Your Highness."

Asgore grinned and finally let go of Toriel's paw. He dashed towards the stone building and barely glanced behind himself as he threw the front door open.

Inside the house was a den, two leather seats with white-wood furnish, a wide table, and a fireplace that was currently unlit. Candles however kept the room from becoming too dim. The chairs' furnishes reminded Asgore of bone, and he sort of guessed that's why they looked that way. Upon the table there were two needles sewing away, with no one handling them as they worked. He could see faint cyan wisps controlling the needles and thread as it stitched itself together. The fabric it was creating looked beautiful –a golden orange color like a sunset, sewn with a darker shade of red that made Asgore think of human blood. Pattern templates were strewn across the surface of the table along with yarn and needles. Near the far back wall there was another room that led into the kitchen, and soft clatters sounded from that direction.

 _Gisha must be cooking,_ he thought as his stomach gave a quiet grumble.

To Asgore's right was a staircase –a long, winding path mad of wooden steps with tiny etchings on each surface. He knew that those markings really didn't mean a thing. They were probably just from the skeleton family walking up and down the stairs after all the years they'd lived in the place. Just scuffs in the wood, nothing more.

Asgore remembered that upstairs there were three rooms: one for Gaster, one for the cobbler and seamstress, and one spare for guests. Downstairs –where Asgore was currently- there was the den, the kitchen, the study, and a stairwell that led to the basement. That's where Garamond worked on the shoes of his customers.

Asgore began to gingerly step over stacks of random books and rolls of fabric. He didn't want to ruin anything –that was for sure. Papers littered the floor –bills, assignments from Gaster's school, orders for his parents— along with bottles and butts of cigars. The air inside was foggy, but Asgore didn't mind.

The prince padded over to the hallway between the kitchen and the den, avoiding the cooking area as he traversed towards the right. If Gisha was in there, he didn't want to disturb her. As he went down the hallway, he was met with two glass doors with wood paneling at the end.

Inside he could see a small skeleton hunched over the oak desk that took up some part of the study. He was scribbling on a piece of parchment, occasionally glancing at a thin disk that seemed to have little speckles on it. Asgore was sure that it had to do with some scientific discovery, but of course he wouldn't understand, no matter how slow someone would it explain it to him.

Without a doubt, the skeleton inside was Wing Dings Gaster.

Asgore suddenly burst through the twin doors. "Howdy, Dings!" he shouted.

The seated skeleton looked as if someone had just stuck a pin on his seat. He jumped up with a loud squeal, but upon his descent he clocked his skull on the desk with a loud thud. Asgore cringed as he groaned in pain.

"Oooh…" Asgore winced as the skeleton sat up, rubbing at the bruised bone of his forehead. "Sorry, Gaster…"

" **For the love of the king,** " Gaster muttered. Asgore furrowed his brow. "Hello, Asgore."

Asgore never understood what Gaster was saying when he was distressed or perturbed. He seemed to have this secret language that only he himself could understand. Even when Asgore asked him about it, he didn't answer.

Gaster was a couple of inches taller than Asgore, but extremely scrawny –even for a skeleton. He wore an oversized, gray turtle-neck sweater and dark pants that hung below his ankles. It often looked as if the young monster was towing his pant legs along behind him when he walked. Gaster also wore glasses that he somehow managed to keep on his skull without a nose or ears. Gaster was around the same age as Asgore, but much, much smarter.

Like the den and probably like the rest of the house, the air in the study was smoky and thick. Asgore coughed a lot whenever he went to Gaster's home, but he tried to hide it the best to his ability.

Books were cramped into tiny shelves behind Gaster's desk with hundreds of papers stacked on top of them. With one wrong breath it was probable that the stacks would avalanche down on the both of them.

"You okay, Gaster?" Asgore asked, reaching out a paw to the injured skeleton. Gaster waved his free hand, opening an eye socket and disregarding the pain that he clenched in his jaw.

"Yes, yes…" he mumbled. "I am fine. No worries, Asgore." He gave Asgore a slight smile with gritted teeth.

"I'm really sorry. Your father said not to startle you…"

"I wish you had listened, yet I still forgive you. There is no need to fret."

Gaster pushed himself out of his seat, removing his hand from his skull. He stepped up to Asgore and punched him lightly in the shoulder, as if he were saying _No problem, man. You know I'm not mad. We're still friends. It was just a stupid mistake._

It was about as reassuring as a half-eaten duck telling his friends that it was just a scratch.

Just at that moment, Toriel stumbled through the doors behind Asgore, holding her robe ends in her paws. She looked flustered and rather heated, and as she came in, Gaster's sockets widened. Asgore grinned and gently helped Toriel keep her balance and he held her shoulder.

"Gaster," Asgore began at the gawking skeleton, "this is Princess Toriel Delta of the Delta family. She's in the kingdom for a few weeks while she studies, and I thought you'd like to meet her, because you have a lot of books and you're both _really_ smart."

Toriel's eyes brightened and almost immediately she placed her paw on Gaster's forehead. He winced, but he didn't move.

"A _skeleton_!" she cried in wonder. "I've never, ever seen one before!"

Asgore reeled back for a moment.

"Did you just conjunction two words together?" he asked breathlessly. "I thought you could only speak properly like some old lady!"

As those words left his mouth, Asgore realized what he said was rather inappropriate. Toriel's eyes grew hurt and he felt his shoulders tense.

 _Well…_ his mind muttered, that _was stupid._

"Now, now," Gaster soothed. "There's no need to be rude, Asgore. If anything, for a prince, your vocabulary is usually equivalent to a year-old's."

Asgore hesitated before feeling his face grown hot. It didn't mean anything if he wasn't very educated. He'd tried to pay attention and he'd attempted to talk like a prince.

But he never quite picked it up.

"Well," he started, his fists clenched at his sides, "who cares? I didn't _try_ to be mean! All I meant was that it caught me off guard!"

Toriel nodded slightly and Gaster just shrugged.

"That's fine," Gaster responded.

"Yes," Toriel said. "Don't worry, Asgore. I understand now. It's all right."

Toriel turned back to Gaster, both of her paws on his skull. Gaster had a light shade of gray painting his cheekbones and Toriel herself was blushing.

Asgore watched them for a few moments; their words buzzing out into ineligible hums until he realized that his chest hurt.

Sure he could've blamed the pain on the smoky air.

Or getting rammed into strangers in the streets.

Or even his bruised ribs.

But unfortunately none of those things were the cause of the tugging sensation upon Asgore's Soul. They were all plausible. They all _could_ have been true. Asgore would much rather _have_ them be the cause than what really was.

* * *

The sun floated past its midpoint in the sky, and began to creep towards the western horizon. There were a lot less shoppers in the streets and the merchants were beginning to decrease.

Asgore watched blankly as Toriel and Gaster ran across the pavement, as they read books by the front of his house, and as they had bubbly discussions about "smart-kid-only" topics.

To say in the least, Asgore felt left out.

He didn't complain though. He didn't want to show Toriel that he was uncomfortable and whiney, and he didn't want Gaster to judge him. He wanted to get her attention, sure, but obviously she was just _so_ captivated by that ludicrous skeleton's data that doing so would require whining and a whole lot of it.

That only enraged him further.

Mainly for the fact that _he_ had invited Toriel to the town. _He_ had taken her to his favorite place in town. _He_ had introduced her to Gaster – _his_ best friend.

But clearly that's where he'd made his mistake.

He never took into account that Gaster would instantly get a crush on her, and he never expected Toriel to act so _differently_ around him, either. Asgore didn't even _think_ that she _could_ act differently than a proper and pristine princess.

It set his Soul into a fit and he wanted to burn Gaster. Yet that was likely to end with Asgore more hurt than the skeleton thanks to his lack of experience in controlling his magic. He didn't like how Gaster would stare at Toriel when she talked.

That was _his_ look to give her.

He didn't like the big dopey grin that'd spread across Gaster's skull when he laughed _with_ Toriel.

That was _his_ stupid smile to give her.

And he certainly despised how little Toriel payed attention to him when she went over future experiments with Gaster.

 _So what if she likes him?_ he told himself haughtily. I _don't care, and neither do our_ families _. Sorry, Toriel, but you won't get to stay with him for very long once your father finds you a husband. Gaster's a_ commoner _, my friend, and unfortunately it's uncustomary if we wed to someone as lowly as a cobbler and seamstress' son._

Asgore flinched. He'd never heard his thoughts grow so twisted. Did he really feel that way?

More laughter and frantic words about something called a typhus filled the small plaza.

 _Yes,_ Asgore's mind hissed. He narrowed his eyes at the setting sun, searching the multiple narrow roads for his gigantic father. _I'd tell him every little detail of today and how…how…_ Asgore grit his jaw. _How_ un _princess-like_ _Toriel was acting. Maybe he'd tell her father and then Galtican would ban her from seeing Gaster ever again. Or maybe he'd tell her to stop going into town and only stay at our castle—_

 _Wait._

 _That would be bad._ Asgore rubbed at his eyes, his stomach knotting itself. Maybe he was just tired. That's it. He never got his tea so now he was cranky and not thinking right.

"Toriel," he called, his paws still pressed to his face. "We gotta go."

He heard her sigh in defeat and quietly apologize to Gaster.

Asgore wished he'd kept his paws on his eyes for three seconds longer. He wished he didn't look to the two monsters.

Toriel was _hugging_ Gaster. Gaster was _hugging_ Toriel. They were _together._

A sharp thorn of anger poked Asgore in his chest as he glared at them both.

"Toriel," he barked, inwardly shuddering as his voice darkened. "Let's go."

Toriel frowned and let go of Gaster –who was blushing insanely— and she stepped up to Asgore with her head down.

"Okay," she mumbled. She held out a paw and Asgore looked down at the crinkled skin and the scarred pads. Her eyes glanced up at him and he cringed.

He gently took her hand, calling his departure to Gaster.

"Goodbye, Asgore!" Gaster stammered.

Asgore led Toriel away to the fountain area. The stars winked into existence as they went down the roads, and the twilight settled across the valley.

Asgore heard Toriel yawn constantly and he began to worry that he'd have to carry her if she fell asleep.

Maybe he'd ask Agnus to do that job.

The two boss monsters wound through the streets, watching the sellers close down, and the monsters and humans retreat to their homes. They eventually made it to the town square.

Asgore tried to see through the growing darkness. He could see the outline of the snake-fountain, he could hear the _sploosh_ of water tumbling into the deep purple-illuminated pool. Toriel sighed beside him and he swiveled his head to look at the entire area.

King Asritine and all of his brothers had already left for the castle.


End file.
